


keep it smooth

by rainbowsmitten



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: AU in that Fen is High Queen, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, F/F, Mild Sexual Content, margo 'don't accuse me of catching feelings' hanson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsmitten/pseuds/rainbowsmitten
Summary: Fen sharpens her knives. Margo's into it.





	keep it smooth

**Author's Note:**

> written for the femslashficlets janelle monae lyrics prompt table, #1 - 'little rough around the edges but I keep it smooth.'
> 
> vaguely dirty but got fluffy instead very quickly bc I'm sappy oops

Margo has very important documents spread out in front of her that she needs to read through in preparation for the High Council meeting in a half an hour. Very important.

But nowhere near as interesting as Fen, sat to her right, sharpening her knives with steady, expert hands and eyes dark with intense focus. Her arms, firmer and more defined than should be allowed, tense and shift with every stroke, and Margo knows the way she bites her lip at the sight is cliche but she doesn’t give a single shit. Fen lacks confidence most of the time, but knives are her expertise, her hands elegant and unhesitating in the way she holds and maneuvers the blades. Beautiful in the strange way people doing what comes naturally to them often is, like Alice using magic or Kady punching people.

Beautiful in a way that turns Margo on.

As unsubtle as Margo is with her fuck-me eyes and her legs purposefully positioned to have the slit in her skirt fall open and reveal some skin, Fen is oblivious, devoted to her task, her brows furrowed and her tongue poking out of her mouth adorably.

Margo’s seen Fen devoted to entirely different tasks in a similarly single-minded way and so maybe she has a bit of a Pavlovian response to that _look_. Fen had little to no experience when they started—whatever the fuck _this_ is, but she’s a damn fast learner, eager to please and entirely wasted on Eliot, bless his gay ass. Her fingers are graceful even when they tremble a little, good at following Margo’s directions, and they discovered pretty quickly that Fen loves the taste of her.

Combine her impressive drive with this newfound knowledge (as well as the most impressive libido Margo has ever encountered), Fen’s rocked Margo’s world just as much as Margo’s rocked hers. Not that she’d ever admit that out loud. Reputation to uphold and all that.

“You know,” Margo drawls and enjoys the endearing sight of Fen startle, her hands still steady but her eyes wide and confused in a disgustingly cute puppy dog way.

Margo rises from her own seat and leans against the edge of the table in front of Fen, who is still blinking up at her curiously. Leaning close, hands coming carefully to still Fen’s and tug the knives gently from her hands, she murmurs, low and throaty, “There are better things for you to be doing with those hands.”

Fen doesn’t seem to notice her knives are gone, which is gratifying as hell—look, no, Margo isn’t jealous of a pair of knives, fuck you, that’s ridiculous—

Fen’s focus is all on her now and Margo adores that heady rush of power that comes when her mere presence is enough to throw someone off, Fen flushed and dazed from a little invasion of personal space and hand touching.

Fen’s no virgin anymore, technically wasn’t even before Margo, but she never lost that shiny, flustered innocence. Margo figured she’d get tired of it after a while, that it would get irritating, but apparently not, because Fen’s ridiculously responsive and it gets to Margo more than she’d have ever expected. Her blown pupils, her labored breath, her nipples stiffening under her gauzy pink fabric of her dress.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Margo coos, settling herself in Fen’s lap.

“Hi,” Fen says, quiet and coy, but her hands come to grasp Margo’s hips with confidence that Margo feels a surge of pride for.

Fen is a wonderful mess of contrasts, shy but deadly, easily flustered but confident in her lust, seemingly blustering but really delightfully competent. If anyone had told Margo at the beginning of all this Fillory bullshit that she would be so fascinated (no, not _smitten_ , suck her dick, she’s not—) with Eliot’s meek mouse of a wife, well—

“Oh, wait,” Fen starts, as if realising something, and then reaches for the knives Margo had set on the table. Margo, indignant, starts to formulate a protest, because she’s clearly the most important thing in the room right now, and also always, because hello, look at her—  

But it dies on her tongue when Fen grasps the knives and, pulling the skirt of her dress aside, slides them into holsters secured around her thigh, which—

Really fucking does it for Margo, apparently, holy _shit._

Once they're free, Fen settles her hands back on Margo, her skirt still pulled to the side and gorgeous pale skin revealed that Margo wants to mark up with her damn teeth—

But first, “Fen, if you don’t fuck me with your fingers _right the fuck now,_ I’m gonna—“

She struggles to find an appropriate threat, because this situation’s gone from 0 to 100 real fast because she’s wet for dumb Fen and her dumb hands and her dumb fucking knives. Christ, Margo’s meant to be cool and collected, not whatever the hell she is now.

“The Councillors—“ Fen protests and it’s a pretty damn pathetic protest because her hands are on Margo’s thighs, skimming at the edge of the lacy slip of a thing that Margo decided to wear today.

“—can go fuck themselves. I’m gonna ride your fingers until I come, maybe twice, and then I’m gonna eat you out until you cry. Capisce?”

“Uh-huh,” Fen says, dumbstruck for a second before her eyes focus a bit again. “But what if—“

“You’re thinking too much,” Margo complains, but the kisses she presses to the hinge of Fen’s jaw takes any heat out of it, even if Margo is sexually frustrated out of her damn mind right now. Fen cares far more about propriety than Margo ever has, but Margo can tell the difference between reluctance and a token protest. But still, there’s also a difference between sexy-pushy and asshole-pushy.

So she cups Fen’s face, more tenderly than she intends to, but there’s no-one here to judge her. And Fen leans into it, like an affection-starved cat, so it’s worth a little emotional vulnerability. “You want this, baby?”

Fen flushes a pretty pink, like she always does at pet names, and breathes, “Yeah, I mean of course, it’s _you_ _—_ “

“Then you can have it. You’re the goddamn High Queen. And I’m the High King. With all we’ve done for this shithole, the _least_ we deserve is a quickie,” Margo says, swiping a thumb over Fen’s warm cheek. “You’re allowed this.”

“Yeah,” Fen says, breathless but no longer nervous bordering on ashamed, and then, firmer, “ _Yeah._ ”

Margo coughs and leans back just a little from the intimate space she created between them, then says, “Okay, enough sappy shit. Make me see stars, sweetheart.”

Fen grins, sudden and sharp like her knives, and that look of intent is back, dark and lovely, her hands steadfast and talented even as her cheeks flush.

The undeniable affection that blooms warm and terrifying in Margo’s chest elicits a very distinct, very loud _'_ well _fuck’_ from Margo’s mind, but she moans louder to drown it out.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tusklove at tumblr if you wanna come yell about the magicians, i'm new to the fandom so i'd love more blogs to follow!


End file.
